Too Far
by Broken Oken
Summary: He built the line for a reason, and now, he's crossed it. MileyOliver oneshot.


Okay, so I'm not the best at writing anything dramatic. I could be maybe if I took more time at it, but it's really not my style... but anyways, I wrote this because of some challenge.. and it ended up being M, I guess, mostly for language.

So if you hate this, I'm sorryyyyy! Just know the conclusion of DS is coming up shortly?

So, er, yeah... here we go.

Disclaimer: Right...wrong.

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**Too Far**  
by Broken Oken

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There's tension in the air. I don't know how to handle it. So I begin to roll up the window; it makes me look like I'm doing something more than just thinking about the fact that I'm alone with the girl for the first time in two years. But this movement does nothing for me. I can still feel her heated gaze upon the back of my head, even through all of my thick brown hair.

"What's wrong?" she demands softly.

"Nothing," I snap. It came out harsher than I intended. Actually, I didn't even mean for it to come out so sharply at all… It was just supposed to be a simple answer. _Damnit, Oliver, why do you make yourself so fucking obvious?!  
_  
Her hand reaches my shoulder. _Damnit_. Her fingers just lying there touching me are _not_ going to help anything.

"Then why are you so tense?" she questions, and I'm not totally sure if she knew she was doing this, but suddenly she was stroking the area of my shoulder with her thumb. I think she must've thought it would calm me down… but it was doing _quite_ the opposite, mind you…

"I-I'm not tense."

I am the worst liar in the fucking world.

Her thumb stops abruptly, and her fingers abandon me. I definitely know I should be like, "Thank God," but no. I'm still picturing her hand massaging me quite clearly in my mind. And I'm still not facing her. I've probably spent about a century rolling up the window. I half-stopped when she had put her hand on me.

She returns to me in voice, strangled and confused, "Then another question. Why have you been ignoring me all night?"

_Ignoring her._ _That's_ what she thinks I'm doing. She thinks that when she touches me, I'm _ignoring_ her. She thinks that when she says my name, I'm _ignoring_ her.

If she only _knew_ the reaction she was getting out of me. It's so painfully _not_ ignorance…

I wish I _could_ ignore her. Then maybe I wouldn't have to sit here and lie like a dumbass.

"I'm not ignoring you, Miley." It came out calmly until I decided, idiotically, to speak her name.

"Yes you are," she argues as if she knows what she's talking about. "I haven't hung out with you alone in years, and the night Jake _finally_ lets me after my _constant_ begging, just to remind you, you barely speak a word. You just keep _looking_ at me. Like, like, I'm some sort of idiot. What exactly did I do wrong, Oliver? Huh? What?!"

It stung to hear the tears in her voice. I had to turn to look at her, even though the sight of my best friend crying is nowhere near bearable, and something I'd rather never see.

Miley Stewart is possibly the only woman in the world that can remain the most beautiful person I know when she looks like a disaster. And to think, I'm the one that's made her look as close to ugly as she can get. Because Miley could never be ugly. Never.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Miles." I stick my hand out to touch her, and then draw back, knowing that the feel of her would cause something I'd been fighting all night. "You never have."

"Then, then, then," she stutters, breathing deeply.

"It's okay, Miles, just breathe."

I can tell she tries to do as I'm instructed, but her breath becomes higher pitched and she almost sounds like she's choking, "Then, then, why are you acting so, so, so weird? You haven't even made a joke tonight. N-N-Not one to make me laugh."

"You know as well as I do that my jokes aren't funny."

Another sharp breath from her. "You hate me, Oliver. You hate me, you hate me, you hate me. Just say it."

My chest explodes. "I can't say I hate you, Miley. I won't."

"Just say it!" she screams as her eyes lift to mine. Her face is smudged in black, and there's dark lines running from the corners of her eyes all the way down to her cracked lips.

"No!" I shout at her. "I'm not going to say I hate you!"

"Say it!" she screams again. "You obviously do. I don't know what I ever fucking did to make you hate me, but it's been painfully obvious all night! You're acting like…" she stops as a fountain of tears burst down her face. "Like… y-you don't wanna _be_ with me…"

The sentence she said had different meaning to me than the way she meant it. The way I _wish_ she would mean it, so I could argue and tell her that I _do_, that I _want_ to be with her, but I can't argue against something she has no idea she'd even be talking about. _She_ means it as I don't want to be _around_ her…

I let go of my control as my hands grip her wrists. She flinches, and I release my hold on them immediately. _Oh no_. I didn't mean to hurt her.

"I'm sorry… just—Miley… God… If you only _knew_ what you do to me."

I turn away for a second. That was _not_ supposed to come out of my mouth. This was not the time or place for that talk. That talk was not supposed ever to leave my lips. It was not allowed. It was crossing the line.

I then look back, knowing it's useless to gaze away when I would just end up staring right back into those eyes again, no matter how bloodshot they became.

"What I do to you?" she sniffles. Her crying has briefly subsided. "What? Am I annoying or something? Is that why you hate me?"

I fight off a glare. "Stop saying that I hate you. I don't. I don't, just trust me, I promise. I _want_ to hate you, Miley, oh, God, then this wouldn't be so complicated…"

"Complicated? How is this complicated?"

"Do you understand what I had to do to be here tonight?" I ask, and she doesn't even move, just stares at me with her tear-filled eyes. "She wouldn't let me leave. She'd kill me if she knew what I was doing right now. She thinks I'm at the fucking grocery store. She… she knows, Miley. She, she knows things."

Miley blinks as another stream flows down a cheek. "She hates me, too, then?"

I've become enraged. "I don't hate you! Just, just get that out of your mind! Ugh.—you're—You're driving me fucking _crazy_."

It was the wrong word choice. I realized it the moment I heard it out of my own ears. The look on her face… that terrified, heartbroken, shattered _look_… _I'm_ causing it. _I'm_ causing her to cry. And I'm the one who always says it should be _me_ putting a smile on her face… and I can't even do that.

"I'm sorry… I meant it in a way you wouldn't understand…"

I can't look at her anymore. I can't bear to know I'm the reason for the pain she's feeling.

I hear shuffling to the right of me, and the unbuckling of a seatbelt. Her car door has opened. And with a slam, it's been closed again.

Oh _no._

I didn't think I could get out of the car fast enough. Liquid soaked me the second I hit the open air. I hadn't even realized it was raining. And definitely not this hard. I could barely see anything, and then I see a vision of someone in a pink shirt… running.

She was running away from me. Running away down the road. And it kills because she should be running away from me. I'm losing more and more control by the second. But we're miles away from town. She can't leave… Not unprotected.

"Miley! Miley! Come back! I'm sorry!" I call to her in a panic, and she suddenly drops to her knees in the middle of the road. I race to her, and my control flies out the window, and I allow myself to encircle my arms around her to bring her back up.

My pulse flies when her body collides against mine. Oh, God. This is why I can't touch her… I promised myself no physical contact… but now what? I couldn't just drop her… Control… _Control_…

"Ol-Oliver," she chokes out. Her tears have become mixed with the rain. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm annoying."

I couldn't help it, I just began to hug her against me, stroking her soaked hair through my fingers, enjoying the way they became trapped in her now rough, tangled locks.

"You're not annoying, Miley… I—you're the most amazing person I've ever met."

"You're just s-s-s-saying that," she murmurs into my hoodie.

"I kinda wish I was. I—" I'm stopped briefly as she snuggles her face deeper into my chest. Oh no. _No_. She needs to stop. And she's not.

"Miley, I, I can't do this."

I back away from her, and she stands there across from me, frozen, like a deer in headlights.

"Can't do what?" she whispers. I honestly don't even know how I heard her with the beating of the rain against my head.

I thought hard and quickly of my word choice, "Be close to you. It's, it's too hard."

"Why? Is it because of Joannie still hating me?"

"No, I don't _care_ what she thinks of you. I really wish I did—"

"You keep saying you wish you did stuff. _Why?!_ You wish you didn't _mean_ that I'm an amazing person. You wish you hated me. You wish you _cared_ about what Joannie thinks—"

"It's cause I fucking love you, damnit!"

_Fuck_.

I don't know how I lost that control. I'd been so good at keeping it since freshman year, and that was five years ago. I couldn't do this. Back then, it was just breaking the rule of friendship. You couldn't _love _your best friend. Now… _now_ it was more serious. Now it was that you couldn't love your best friend, who belonged to _someone else_, not to mention that you belonged to someone else yourself.

The control had been lost completely in just that second. _All of it_. I was suddenly throwing myself at her, and embracing my her, snatching her lips up into mine.

And now, I'm kissing her, my best friend. And everything inside is screaming, "This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong." But I know, somewhere deep down, it's right. It's what I've wanted. What I've _dreamed _about… _what I couldn't have_.

In this moment, however, I'm having it. More than I could imagine. Her mouth is pressing back against mine, and her tongue is weaving through the entrance of my lips. I'm more than eager, and my arms thrust her more against me. I think I lose myself in another dimension. My thoughts are now lost with wherever my control has went.

Her fingers are now entwined into my hair. It feels nothing short of how I imagined. It's more. Her tongue tastes better than the ideas I had. I pictured sweetness, but never like this. Never this appetizing.

I'm helpless to this girl. My hands find themselves locked underneath her, and I hoist her around my waist, moaning slightly as I feel her harder against me. Her legs bind around me. She's surrounding me. I—I don't know how I'm breathing.

The rain falls more against us, and I suddenly find my legs carrying us off towards the car. I'm trying to regain control—No, wait, I'm not. I'm not even caring about anything at the moment. I have who I want in my arms. It's wrong… it's _right_.

I don't know how it happens, but I'm—no, _we're_—up against the hood of the car. I don't know how long we were there, kissing each other, battling tongues. She was just lying there below my body, and every movement was beautiful. She was bucking up under me… oh my _God_. I'm not sure how I'm ever going to get control again after experiencing this… after _years_ of not knowing what it'd feel like…

And out of the blue, it comes to me then that she's been kissing back all this time, responding.

And that's when my control arrives back within me, and I get up off of her, backing away yet again.

She lies there for a moment and lifts her head to peer at me.

"I—I think we better get you home," I say timidly. She gets off my hood and stands up. Holy shit. Her shirt is halfway off. Did I… _do_ that?

She's not replying, just standing there.

Another thing I did not expect—awkwardness after.

"Oliver." I was relieved to hear her speaking, I think. "What… was that?"

"Something that should've never happened, and we should just forget about."

My mind has a mouth of its own sometimes.

Finally an emotion I'm familiar with arrives in her face. She glares. "You—we just practically—well, _you know_, and you want me to just forget about it?!"

"We did not almost '_you know'_, Miley!" I yell back.

"So I guess I undid my zipper myself then?" I blush deeply as I look to her jeans, noticing that her pants had been pulled down slightly, and the zipper was completely undone, as she had said. I'm trying to ignore the images of what could've happened in my head.

"Do you not understand?! You have Jake, and I have Joannie! We just… Miley, we just fucking _cheated_ on them!"

"Exactly, Oliver!" I can't tell because of the rain, but I can hear her sobbing again. "We cheated on them! Jake—oh, God, Jake… I can't—I'm never going to forget what I just did now! And it meant _nothing_ to you!"

"For your information, I told you I fucking _loved_ you! Do you even know how long I've wanted to tell you, Miley?! So don't tell me that it meant nothing to me, when you don't even have a clue. It obviously meant nothing to _you_, if all you're thinking about how terrible it was for you to do this to your stupid ZombieSlaying asshole of a boyfriend."

"Stop! Just stop!" She falls to the ground again. "I can't do this. I just can't. I can't love you back, Oliver… you know I can't."

I soften. "…why?"

With a gasping breath, she raises a hand. And on her right finger, even visible against the rain, is a shiny, band of gold.

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Yikes, that sucked. But oh well. Just wanted to post it before I go to work. Reviews?


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